


Laura

by Soquilii9



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Sue; Hurt/Comfort; take your pick.  Started out as one or the other...  You know how Eliot is with kids...<br/>This story took me in ITS direction.  Not the other way around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

  


Cool Oregon winds whipped his long hair; Eliot felt complete freedom driving his maroon Pontiac convertible down the wooded, shady country road, just south of Beaver Creek, one late afternoon. Eliot preferred back roads to highways. There was so much to miss on a highway. He liked driving; just driving; not going anywhere in particular; nothing planned; just the freedom of the open road and fresh air in his lungs after the city's noise and pollution. First break he’d had from the Leverage team in quite a while. Earbud? _Back at the apartment in Portland._ Cell phone? _Same place._ Screw it. He was off duty and besides, anything he ran up against he could take care of himself without being pestered by technology. _Take that, Hardison._  


It was even better without the radio on, although he'd been singing to it earlier; a simple ballad about a Vietnam vet, mortally wounded in the jungle, telling his girl he loved her, was one of his favorites. Singing relaxed him but it also dried his throat out, and he was down to his last three beers. One was set in the cupholder; the other two were in the ice chest in the trunk along with plenty of water...but beer, like food, was life. He'd have to stop somewhere and replenish. He had everything else he needed. Eliot Spencer traveled light. Bud Light. He smiled to himself.  


The forest diminished a lot of sunlight, making his shades unnecessary; he parked them on his head. They were useful to hold his shoulder length hair back. He took a deep breath, one of many along this trip, and his body relaxed each time he did so. The road dipped and turned; not enough to warrant his complete attention, and he had rebelliously clipped his seat belt to the passenger side to squelch the car's annoying beep.  


_Speaking of annoying,_ he thought to himself, _Nate was gonna be annoying when he got back, but he had to get away for a while. Whatever work came their way could just fucking well wait, or, hey, Nate, how about setting up a con where I don't have to bust heads? Huh? Too much of a challenge for ya?_  


_Not that he didn't like busting heads,_ he grinned to himself, _but every so often it was good to just get away._  


_Damn it, the team might as well have been with him in the car._ He dumped them out of his mind. Hey, there to the left! A small, nearly-hidden turnoff road looked interesting. A graveled one-laner. Eliot impulsively took it, squealing tires on the pavement. The trees grew sparse. About three miles in, he had to slow down for potholes; heavy rains swelling several small creeks had carved the road into gullies. Disappointing. About to make a u-turn, he heard something in the distance. A faint but gut-wrenching scream. He killed the engine to listen.  


Instantly alert, Eliot started the car and drove further down. Behind some overgrowth to his left, an old rusty pickup was parked; beyond that, barely visible, the remains of an old barn. He heard the scream again; a female voice. Eliot killed the engine again and let it roll; he was out of the car before it came to a stop. Running toward the barn, he glanced into the back of the truck. A tire iron. Good enough. He grabbed it up; thus armed, he flung open the door of the barn.


	2. Chapter Two

Small beams of the descending afternoon sun pierced the weathered boards and filtered through old hay particles floating in mid-air, flung up by the struggle of the three on the floor; partially obscuring them. Eliot peered through the semi-darkness. One burly guy in a Confederate headrag was kneeling, his black gloves gripping and yanking at a young girl's wrists; the other had her legs and was about to abuse her. She was fighting with everything she had, which wasn't much; she was small; naked; terrified; hurting; panicked. Her screams pierced the air. She spied Eliot coming stealthily from behind, and thinking he was another attacker screamed even louder, which earned her a hard backhand across her face. Knocked into unconsciousness, she ceased struggling; the screams stopped abruptly.

'Hello, boys,' said Eliot, his voice deceptively smooth and jovial. 'Party time?' He twirled the tire iron in his right hand and motioned with his left. _'C'mon!'_ he growled.

He twirled the tire iron again, invitingly, and backed away, drawing them outside. They carelessly flung their victim into the hay and accepted the invitation, coming at him from opposite sides. Like lightning, Eliot swung the iron in an arc which broke the nose of one with the bent end, almost simultaneously side-kicking the other one in his exposed tender spot; he'd forgotten to zip up. He howled. They both went down but almost immediately came back up.

Eliot was once a hired killer. Normally he just 'busted heads,' but this situation was different. His skills still as sharp as they were when he worked for Damien Moreau, he blocked a punch, another, landed a well-placed kick and swung the tire iron again to crush the skull of one of them, then in a graceful pivot, he brought the weapon down on the neck of the other, snapping his spinal cord instantly. The men hit the hard earth, nearly on top of each other; one dead and the other twitching his last breath. Eliot spat on them.

_'Good riddance.'_

He wiped his brow and palmed the hair out of his eyes. Somewhere in the struggle he'd lost his sunglasses. Running back into the barn, he swiftly knelt by the girl. She had landed face down. He swept her hair from her neck and placed two fingers on the pulse point. Thready, but there. Cross-trained as a medic in the Army, he first checked for broken bones before moving her. Limbs were sound, hips, spine; but one rib felt cracked. He grasped one arm, placing his other hand beneath her and turned her gently to her back. He was sure her clavicle must have been fractured but it was intact. Beautiful girl, despite her ravaged condition; he guessed about 17 or 18 years old. She looked slightly familiar. Shaking his head, he did a quick visual for other injuries. There was no evidence of rape; he'd apparently been just in time to prevent that, for which he was grateful to whatever force ruled the universe. Was that why he had turned down that lane so impulsively? But Eliot had stopped asking these kinds of questions years ago. Questions like that were useless. He cataloged many cuts, scrapes and bruises; those two bastards had beaten her viciously. The most serious of the wounds were two large penetrating knife wounds on one breast and another beneath; those worried him.

There were other considerations: who was she? Where did she come from; how did she get here? What about those dead bastards; did they have friends? It looked to be a case of a runaway being snatched on the road. It was getting dark; he had no choice but to take her with him, find a safe place, treat her wounds and wait for her to come to. Once he got some answers he could decide what else to do. No sense wishing for equipment now. He imagined Hardison nodding and smiling at him. _Bastard thought he knew it all even in his imagination._

He looked around for anything that might belong to her. A torn pair of jeans, one shoe and a ripped shirt; no backpack, not even extra clothes in a pillowcase. If she was a runaway, she was traveling mighty light. In trunk of his car was a blanket for picnics. It would do. He fetched it, wrapped it around her, gathered her in his arms and carried her to the car. He laid her carefully on the front seat. Ignoring the truck and two bodies, Eliot carefully searched the area for evidence of both the crime and anything that would tie him to the killings. He found his sunglasses, they were cracked; he threw then into the trunk along with the tire iron with his prints on it. He gathered the scraps of what had been her clothes. He couldn't find the other shoe. _Fuck it,_ he thought. _Could be anywhere._ He got in the car and backed it about half a mile before he turned around. Back onto the paved road, he stopped, cut a sapling and wiped away the tire prints.


	3. Chapter Three

There wasn’t a motel within 200 miles. The sun was on the edge of the horizon. Eliot decided the best course of action was to go back to an old, abandoned house he remembered passing about ten miles back. He raised the ragtop against the wind and floored it. He'd get there before dark.  


Leaving the girl in the locked car, he scouted the old place. It had once been a respectable farmhouse, built around the 1930s; it still had a good roof, a fireplace, and best of all, a couple of old, thin mattresses on the floor. They were dry. He shook them out and stacked them by the hearth. The old house's last tenants had been the homeless; now its walls would shelter, for one night, Eliot Spencer and an unknown girl.  


Eliot drove the car around back, out of sight. He carried the still-unconscious girl inside, her head resting on his chest. Leaving her wrapped in her blanket on the makeshift bed, he got everything he needed out of the trunk, including a small flashlight. In the kitchen, the only appliance was an old-school water pump bolted to the counter; it worked but he needed a primer. Although there was a 6-pack of water in the trunk, he used the beer in the cup holder; it would do. If this old well was dry, they'd need what water he had. Luckily, with some work, the pump delivered. He tasted it. Not brackish at all; sweet and cutting cold. The well was deep. An empty coffee can did duty as a bucket. The bag of snacks he had in the car would make a passable dinner; for the one night he planned to be here, anyway.  


Scouring the yard for sticks and small limbs, he soon had a fire blazing, enclosed by weathered, stained bricks. It would provide warmth and light; it would also keep insects away.  


The girl’s pain transcended her unconsciousness; she tossed on the mattress, groaning. Eliot kept a medic's first aid kit in the trunk. Donning latex gloves, holding the flashlight between his teeth, he went to work to examine, clean, expertly stitch and bandage the deeper wounds and treat the many other cuts, scrapes and bruises. He had a small amount of antibiotic which he administered by injection. His gentle hands made her as clean and comfortable as he could. With his own brush, he untangled her dark blonde hair.  


Eliot sat for a while, beer in hand, watching her and listening. The night was alive with nocturnal noises. He stepped off the porch and walked a way into the overgrown yard. Standing in moon shadow, he scanned the area. After many minutes he scoffed; probably a coyote or feral dog. Just as he turned to start back in, the girl's heart-wrenching screams began again. He ran to her. Astonishingly, she was trying to get to her feet, clutching her blanket around her. He couldn’t believe it. When she saw him, she panicked, backing away from him until she hit a wall. Cornered, she stood weakly trembling from head to foot.  


He made no move toward her. 'It's all right,' he told her quietly, keeping his distance. He made his normally gruff voice soft and his expression gentle. 'Listen, you're safe now. I'm here to help you. You’re safe. OK? But...you...you need to be in a hospital. I can take you to the hospital tomorrow or take you home, whichever you like, but I...I really think you should be in a hospital. Those guys...' He let out a breath. 'They stabbed you…' he said, gesturing toward her. 'You need…you need to lie down.'  


Holding the blanket high, she eyed him warily, still shaking and sobbing.  


He crouched down in order to present less of a threat to her and to stir the fire so she could see him better in the brighter light.  


'Did you know those men?' he asked.  


For a long moment he thought she wasn't going to answer him, but she shook her head no. 'OK. Let’s, uh, let's take this one step at a time. I’m … my name is Eliot. I was driving by when I heard you...'  


Her sobs came harder; she turned her face to the wall.  


'Listen…those two…they won't be bothering you...or anyone else...ever again. Never... again.' He paused; then decided to say it. 'I _ended_ them. You understand?'  


She almost imperceptibly nodded, keeping her face averted.  


'Now…let’s talk about you. Tell me your name.'  


It was several minutes before she spoke. ‘N-No,’ she whispered. 'You'll call my foster father.'  


'Foster…? So you're in the system…' Damn, if only Hardison were here he’d have her ID’d in no time.  


'Not any more. _Not going back._ ' she stated, weakly.  


'OK. I gotcha. Bad experience, then.'  


She nodded.  


'You just…you decided to get the hell out, then, huh?'  


_'Yes!'_ She looked at him and he read her expression. God, what had this kid gone through?  


'Want to know something? I have friends who were once in the system, just like you. I work with them...'  


'I am _not_ going back,' she cut in, frowning. 'You take me back, _I'll run again._ ' She spoke with anger.  


Girl had spunk; as weak as she was, she looked capable of bolting, like a wild horse.  


'Ok…see…I'm not here to make you do anything you don't wanna do,’ he said, watching a myriad of expressions flit cross her features. Something in her knew he wasn’t the enemy...she wanted so badly to trust, yet she remained fearful.  


‘Running’s not the answer,’ he continued. ‘You might _have_ to go back, but…’  


_‘No,’_ she cried weakly. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees gave way. She started to slide down the wall. Eliot moved to catch her before she fell. Her fingers lost their grip on the blanket; he pulled it back up around her. Impulsively he lifted her into his arms. Looking down at her, it came to him then why she looked somehow familiar. There was something of Parker in her – not just her coloring, and certainly not what he often discounted as something wrong with you; not the quirky, mouselike demeanor that was uniquely Parker. It was something else; something intangible. Whatever it was struck a chord. Eliot could never bear to see the young and innocent struck down by a cruel world. He’d see too much of it himself not to feel protective toward those who couldn’t hit back; who couldn’t meet it on its own harsh terms. He knelt on the floor, cradling her; rocking her gently, humming and singing the tune he's sung earlier:  
 _Gonna close my eyes, girl and watch you go, running through this life darlin' like a field of snow_  
 _As the tracer glides, in its graceful arc, send a little prayer out to ya 'cross the falling dark..._  


_Damn._ He still didn't know her name. A search through her torn clothes had yielded nothing. This kid had struck out on her own to escape a brutal life and her reward was a couple of rednecks who probably scooped her off the side of the road and would’ve dumped her body in the same place after they were done with her. If she went back into the system she’d be transferred from one place to another; she’d run again, probably right into the arms of a pimp - or worse. It happened too often and CPS was too overloaded to care. Well, damned if he'd let it happen to her. He studied her face. Until he learned her name, until she trusted him enough to share that and her story to him, he was going to call her by one of Sophie's many names: _Laura._ It seemed to suit her. He went on singing.  


She came to in his arms, listening to his voice. She lay quietly for a while, just listening, with her eyes closed. She had rarely felt comforted in her life, but she felt it now. She felt warm; safe. She opened her eyes. Eliot stopped singing and looked down to find her staring up at him; her blue eyes searching his. She smiled a little and nestled against his shirt.  


‘Don’t stop,’ she said softly. 'Don't stop singing...'  


He held her another little while and sang some more. When he was sure she had fallen asleep, he placed her, enclosed in the blanket, on the old mattress. After putting a few more logs on the fire against the night chill, he posted himself on the floor nearby, across the door. He had slept this way many a night in Afghanistan. One more night wouldn't kill him.


	4. Chapter Four

Eliot rose stiffly at dawn; he hadn't slept much but coffee would set that right. He stirred the fire back to life and set the coffee pot on the coals. Laura still slept soundly; he wouldn't wake her just yet. A packaged cinnamon roll made an acceptable breakfast. He carried coffee and roll out to the dilapidated front porch. He was surrounded by forest and overgrown farmland as far as the eye could see. Eliot leaned against an upright, munching and sipping, watching the sun come up. It was a peaceful place. Two dead bodies stiffening deep in the forest, not likely to be discovered before they were no more than vulture-stripped bones; he could live with that. No problem. Red sky last night; good weather today. He’d head back to Portland soon and get Laura taken care of. It was all good.  


‘Did you say your name was Eliot?’  


Slightly startled, he turned to see Laura standing in the doorway, shivering in her blanket.  


‘Back inside,’ he said, gesturing. ‘Go. Go on.’ He herded her back to the mattress on the floor, took her hand and made her sit down.  


‘This thing smells.’  


He nodded. 'I know. Call this a waystation. Middle of nowhere. Not gonna be here too much longer.' He handed her his cup. She sipped what was left of his coffee and made a face. He smiled. ‘Don’t like my coffee, huh? How do you…how’re you feeling?’  


'I-I don't know. Sort of hot and cold at the same time. And I...hurt...all over. I went to the bathroom…in one of the other rooms.'  


‘No problem.’ He placed the back of his hand to her forehead. 'Fever. Damn.'  


He helped her lie down. 'Listen, I need to check those wounds. Okay?'  


'Will it hurt?'  


'Not if I can help it.'  


With gentle skill, Eliot moved the blanket off the wound sites, placing her hand against it. 'Hold that there for me.'  


She complied and turned her face away.  


Carefully peeling back the dressings, he examined the stitched knife wounds. There was no redness around the stitching, no swelling. That was good; however, puncture wounds were tricky; they could infect from deep within. He applied a topical antibiotic and replaced the bandages with fresh ones.  


‘Looks ok but that fever has me worried,' he said. 'I had only one dose of intravenous antibiotic.' He handed her an aspirin packet. 'This'll help.'  


‘Are you...a doctor?’  


He draped the blanket back over her. ‘No…medic in the army...among other things.’  


‘Must've been a good one.’  


‘Plenty of chances to use what I learned. Want a cinnamon roll? All I got.’  


‘Sure.’  


He handed her one, along with a bottle of water. She ate ravenously, nearly choking.  


‘Hey, careful. Slow down.’  


She nodded.  


‘I want to learn something else now,’ said Eliot, seriously. That obdurate expression flitted across her face again. _Oh my God, you ARE Parker. That's what I should have fucking well named you._  


‘You’re _not_ gettin’ my name,’ was her emphatic reply.  


‘That’s not what I was gonna ask,’ he said. After a long pause, he said, _‘Laura.’_  


The expression on her face was priceless. ‘What…did you ju-...’  


‘You heard me. That’s gonna be your name until you tell me what the hell it really is. I’m not about to say _hey you_ every minute. No arguments.’ While he was talking he packed up his medical kit. ‘Hell, I’ve got another friend who has about 25 names; we've known her five years and still don’t know what her real one is.’  


'Just how many friends have you got?'  


He smiled. 'Enough. But four in particular. Good ones. The best. Like I said, I work with ‘em.'  


‘So…what were you gonna ask me, Eliot?’  


‘OK, I’m gonna ask you. I’m not gonna say, _here’s how it’s gonna be_ or _you’re gonna do this._ It’s your choice, but I want you to go back with me to Portland. I mean, I…I can't just leave you here. No way. I don't know where you came from; where you were going and hey, I don't care. It’s just…let’s face it, you’re in no shape to be out here alone. I gotta tell ya, hitchikin' out here'll getcha killed. You should know that by now.' He clasped her chin and turned her face to his. _'Is that what you want?'_ he asked, harshly.  


_'No...'_ She jerked her chin out of his hand.  


'So will you go back with me?'  


‘Where, _Juvy Hall_?’ she said sarcastically.  


‘No – Leverage, Inc.’  


‘Huh?’  


‘Just finish your breakfast and let’s go.’ _So much for not tellin’ the kid what to do,_ he thought.  


Laura watched Eliot pack up and load the car through the open door. Eliot came up the porch steps; his compact frame blocking the morning sun, throwing his face into shadow, but she could still see his furrowed brow, like he was daring her to oppose him.  


‘Well?’  


‘I’m coming with you,’ she said softly.  


‘Good choice.’  


She struggled to get up. ‘A little help, here?’  


The scowl softened. He bent to lift her, wrapping her blanket around her snugly. ‘I gotcha, Sweetheart.’  


She put her arms around his neck. After he settled her on the front seat, Eliot went back in to douse the fire. He’d remember this old place. In a good way.  


~~~~~  


‘Put the top down, Eliot.’  


‘No.’  


‘Why not?’  


‘You’ll get chilled. Keep that blanket over your feet.’  


‘God, you sound like my …’  


‘What…I sound like your… _what?_ ’ he turned to look at her.  


‘Never mind.’  


Laura fell silent. Eliot drove a few miles before he asked her another question. ‘Did you know your real parents?’  


She sighed. ‘No. Dead. Car wreck when I was a baby. Had two older brothers; they died too. Somebody found me in a car seat in a muddy ditch, they said. I can't remember anything but one foster home after another. But there was one couple I stayed with, about four years ago …’  


‘Yeah?’  


‘They were really nice to me.’  


‘Yeah? When you were little?’ Eliot played dumb with a sly question and hoped she wouldn’t pick up on it.  


‘I was _twelve_.’  


_She just gave me her age_ , Eliot thought, smiling to himself. _That made her sixteen years old, God, younger than I'd figured. Two years yet to go in the system. Way too young to be going off on her own. OK...he had an age, a good description, and she probably didn’t realize he had noted the smallpox scar on her arm and the birthmark by her navel. And he had a probable location, unless she’d come down from Washington, and he somehow doubted that. She had to be from Oregon. Maybe that was enough data for Hardison. Damn guy could usually zero in with less than that._  


Laura groaned a little and shifted her position. Spunky, yes, but she was obviously in pain.  


‘I got an idea,’ he said, gruffly.  


‘What's wrong?’  


‘Nothing...just...why don’t I stop the car and let you lie down on the back seat?’  


‘No…I...want to stay up here with you.‘  


‘You’d be more comfortable in the back seat!’ he growled.  


‘Please, Eliot.’  


He growled again, frowning. ‘Are you gonna argue with me all the way back?’  


‘Looks like it.’  


Eliot smothered a grin.  


‘Good thing I got bench seats. All right, curl up here and go to sleep a while. You can put your head on my lap; it's ok.’  


She complied; nestling her head on his thigh. Eliot drove with his left hand and draped his right arm over her protectively. She reached out and clasped his hand in both of hers. His face still held a scowl but there was a smile in his heart.  


Portland was just 25 miles away.


	5. Chapter Five

Alec Hardison couldn't believe his eyes. Eliot was cursing, struggling to get through the door with a blanketed bundle in his strong arms. Hardison ran over to hold the door, looking down at Eliot's burden.

‘ _What the hell_ …?’ Hardison began. ‘Eliot…did you go and _hit a dog_ and bring it back here? _You_ gon’ pay the vet, man, and Nate’s gon' have a fit that you even brought it in here…’

‘Shut up and move outta my way, Hardison!’ Eliot carefully placed the bundle on the couch and peeled back the blanket a little. Laura was unconscious. Bruises and scratches peppered her face and shoulders.

‘I gotta get her some help, man!’ 

Hardison’s eyes bugged. ‘You know what? Nate’s gonna have an even bigger fit and I ain’t sure I wanna be around when he sees…’

‘When I see what, Hardison?’ Nate came into the room. He looked from the blanketed bundle on the couch to Hardison to Eliot and back to the girl…then back to Hardison. His brow furrowed. 'Mind explaining this?'

'Hey, don't look at me, man, Eliot said she followed him home and can he keep her. Talk to Eliot!'

Nate didn’t look happy. ‘Looks like you're gonna have a good story to tell us about your, uh, vacation….aren’tcha, Eliot? Million questions. Let's start with, who is that, where’d you find her and how in hell did you get her up here?’

‘Parking garage in the basement. Took the service elevator.’

‘All right, start talking.’

‘ _Later._ She needs a doctor. Right now. Call yours; he still does house calls; I know because you told me…’cause hospitals aren’t your thing. Call him, Nate. _Now._ ’

‘You shouldn’t have brought whoever this is here, Eliot. Whatever's happened to her, just take her to the ER...’

‘ _Dammit, call him, Nate! Now_!’ He flung the blanket back. The girl’s been _stabbed,_ man!’ He related what had happened in a nutshell; how he had gained the girl’s trust and couldn't betray her by taking her anywhere. Yet.

‘She went to sleep in the car, man, and now I can’t get her to wake up!’

Nate’s demeanor softened. Although this girl was older than his son had been, he couldn’t help flashing on the day Sam died. He knelt by the couch, checking her pulse and respiration. ‘Thready. Her pulse is too fast. High fever. OK, Hardison, call Bridges and get him up here; tell him it’s an emergency. Then get Sophie or Parker back here.’ He turned to Eliot.

‘What’s her name?’

‘She won't say.' Eliot sighed. 'I named her _Laura_.’

~~~~~

Sophie couldn’t be reached, which was all right; Parker was the better choice. She had more in common with the girl. Parker was on her way.

Nate's doctor arrived shortly, grumbling; it had been his golf day. Meanwhile, Eliot gave Hardison all the intel he had; Hardison began a search through the internet and database mazes. While the doctor hovered over his new patient, Eliot irritated Hardison by hovering over his keyboard.

Dr. Bridges, after hearing the whole story, evaluated Laura and performed a detailed examination. He pulled Nate aside for a consultation. 'Look, Nate,' he said, 'this girl is in bad shape. Now, your friend in there…'

'Eliot,' Nate supplied.

'Yes, well, he's a fine medic, as good as I am in fact, given the lack of equipment. But neither of us can do anything for her here. She's going to the hospital whether she likes it or not, no matter what Eliot promised. At any rate, I can't treat STDs here, and she’s going to need that and other treatment.'

'Eliot said that didn't happen.'

'Perhaps not, but at some point, this girl was raped. Brutally.'

'That's what she was running away from, then.'

'Apparently.'

_'Damn.'_

'Yeah.'

‘Ok,’ said Nate. ‘I’ll call the ambulance. Maybe Hardison’s found out who she is by now.’

A peeved voice sounded out from behind the console. ‘No, Hardison has not found out who she is yet; I ain't Scotty, Captain Kirk...you want miracles in my neighborhood, you do what my Nana say and pray. Do you have any idea how many foster kids run off every year?’

‘No, Hardison, how many?’ Nate asked sarcastically.

‘A _lot_.’

‘Well, do the best you can.’

‘No…actually…Nate…see, I thought I’d do my usual _piss-poor_ job. Damn, what does it take to get appreciated around here…’

While Hardison was busy grumbling to himself, Eliot confronted Nate, who was dialing 911.

‘Just what the hell are you doing?’

‘I have to call them, Eliot. She needs to be in a hospital. You know that.’

Eliot, downcast, said, ‘I know that, Nate, but I promised her…’

‘Eliot, sometimes kids, you know, you promise them something that isn’t in their best interest, just to get them to do something they don’t want to do…’ Nate’s voice trailed off and Eliot knew he was thinking of his son, Sam. _What must he have promised that kid in an effort to keep him from dying?_

‘Don’t worry about it now. You’re doing what’s best for her. Trust me, she’ll thank you later. Here,’ Nate handed him the phone. ‘You call them.’

Eliot sighed and dialed.

‘What’s your emergency?’ a female voice seemingly devoid of all feeling, asked.

‘Jane Doe, minor,’ he reported, rubbing his neck in frustration. ‘Stab wounds. Possible rape. Found in alley.’ Eliot gave the address.

‘An ambulance is being dispatched, sir.’


	6. Chapter Six

The team sat around the conference table – or most of it; Eliot was missing and had been for over 24 hours. Sophie had joined them and learned about Laura. She was pleased about the use of her name…or one of them, anyway. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’ve always wanted a namesake.’

Nate, meanwhile, was trying unsuccessfully to line out a job. ‘Our client is waiting for us to investigate his case. Where’s Eliot?’

‘I’ll give you three guesses,’ said Hardison, ‘but you’re only gonna need one.’

‘I’ll go,’ Parker volunteered.

‘No...Parker, you and Sophie keep reviewing our client's case. I'm going down there. Hardison, keep looking. This kid’s hiding. She too afraid to confide in anyone. Hospital calls her Jane Doe; Eliot named her Laura; fine, but somebody's got to know who that girl really is.’

‘Whatcha think I been _doin’_ the last two hours?!’

‘And you’re doing a fine job, too, just keep at it.’

Hardison, fuming, guzzled orange soda and turned back to his monitor.

~~~~~

Nate found Eliot pacing back and forth in the surgical waiting room. He was taken aback; he’d never seen this side of the Hitter, distressed with tears in his eyes.

'All I know is, she was taken to surgery an hour ago,' Eliot said, answering Nate's questions. 'Nobody’ll tell me a damn thing because I’m not a relative. _Friend_ doesn’t cut any ice anymore.’

'The authorities have to handle this one, Eliot.'

‘Dammit, Nate, the one thing she didn’t want was to go back…’ Eliot didn’t finish the sentence, for down the hall, the elevator doors opened. An orderly and two nurses maneuvered a gurney out into the hall and down toward the waiting room where the two men stood just outside the door.

'That's her,' said Eliot. He followed the gurney down the hall. Nate followed.

One of the nurses, a very tall, commanding brunette in an unflattering blue scrubsuit, turned and held up a hand. 'Excuse me…are you this girl’s family?'

'No,' Eliot growled, forcefully. Nate stepped ahead of him and put a hand on his chest. He felt the quivering tension in him; it wouldn't take much to set Eliot off. Nate stared into the younger man's eyes. Eliot knew when Nate wasn't kidding. He backed down.

'Please stand aside,' said the nurse. Firmly. No court of appeals.

Reluctantly, Eliot allowed Nate to nudge him out of the way. The medical staff expertly rolled the gurney into the room. They transferred Laura to the bed and began settling her, hooking up IVs and tubes, raising sidebars and checking her vitals. The intern rolled the empty gurney back into the elevator and vanished.

Eliot's steely blue eyes met Nate's. The brief era of cooperation had ended.

'Eliot, you can’t go in there…' Nate was talking to air; Eliot was at the foot of the bed, watching the nurses at their work. The tall one looked up at him.

'Sir-'

Eliot scowled; his voice dropped to its deepest registers. 'I wanna see her.' He glanced at the other nurse. She was obviously just an assistant; she returned his glance briefly before resuming her work. He’d have to deal with the Amazon.

She confronted him. 'Now, you said you weren’t related to this girl.’

With effort, Eliot took a breath and started to speak, trying to appear cooperative. He took another breath. 'No...I’m not…I’m…I'm her friend. I need to know how she is.'

'She's stable. Now, I’m very sorry.' She spoke to him as if to a child. 'Only family is allowed and only for a few minutes. She’s had surgery and we have to monitor her.'

Eliot bared his teeth. ' _This isn’t the ICU._ '

'No, she just came from there. Also, this is a Jane Doe. You say you're her friend?' she asked with a smirk. 'Then what's her name?'

_I gave her the name Laura. They wouldn’t understand that._ 'I don't know her name,' he growled.

'Well, there, you see? We can’t allow visitors until we get more information on her. I'm sorry. Once she’s identified and her family located, you can see her.'

'Look, you don’t understand.'

‘Please step out, sir.’

Eliot defiantly remained where he was.

'Must I call security, sir?'

Eliot left, growling his frustration, running his fingers through his hair. Nate ran to catch up with him.

~~~~~

Eliot slept in his clothes on Nate’s couch that night. The next morning, Nate came downstairs and nudged him awake.

‘Bridges called. He wants to talk to you.’ Nate handed Eliot his phone.

‘Yeah,’ said Eliot into the phone. He flung his long hair out of his eyes.

‘Eliot, it’s about the girl you had brought in yesterday.’

Eliot swallowed, his eyes wide. He rubbed his thigh. ‘Did she...’

‘No, wait, before you jump to conclusions, you should know she’s improving. Surgery took care of the infection, that and strong antibiotics. She'll be fine in a couple of weeks.’

Eliot closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh. ‘Then what’s wrong?’

‘She’s been asking for you. Well, that’s an understatement; she’s been quite adamant.’

‘Yeah? Well, did that Amazon in the blue scrubs tell you _I couldn't?_ ’

‘I took care of that. Doctor-patient privilege. We'll have to notify the authorities eventually, of course, but for now she wants to see you, and in the interest of her well-being, I suggest you get your ass back down here.’

‘Leaving now.’

~~~~~

The tall nurse met Eliot at the door to Laura’s room. She’d to concede defeat; a doctor's word trumps a nurse's, and she didn’t like it.

‘ _Well_ ,' she said in a tone that infuriated Eliot. He was rumpled from spending the night on a none-too-comfortable couch. His hair was unkempt; his arms were folded across his chest. He glared at her.

The woman scornfully looked Eliot up and down. 'You said you were her friend. All right, so go on in. We can't seem to calm the young lady down.'

'Yeah, well, _I_ can. Step aside.' Eliot glared at her menacingly. The woman stalked down the corridor.

Eliot slowly approached the bed where Laura lay crying weakly, but when she saw him, she turned her face away.

' _Huh._ Is that how it is. You send for me and now you won’t talk to me?'

'You sold me out. That’s why I wanted you here. To tell you that. _You sold me out!_ '

He took a deep breath. 'Would you rather I had let you die?' he asked, quietly.

She didn’t answer.

'Laura I...I had to break that promise. I had to do this.'

' _You’re just like the rest of them!_ '

'I don’t think you mean that. Laura, listen…you…if I was like... _them_...I would have left you there; I would have driven on by, not giving a damn. Remember telling me about that one family who was kind to you? They didn’t sell you out. _I_ didn’t sell you out. There are people in the world who care about you. Laura…listen to me. _**I’m one of ‘em.**_ '

'I know,' she sobbed, slowly turning to face him.

He sat on the bed beside her. Very carefully, because of the IV lines and tubes and wires, he pulled her gently into his arms and began rocking her.

_Gonna close my eyes, girl and watch you go, running through this life darlin' like a field of snow_   
_As the tracer glides, in its graceful arc, send a little prayer out to ya 'cross the falling dark..._


	7. Chapter Seven

Back at Leverage Headquarters, Nate was fighting a losing battle getting the team back to work on a case that had been shoved to the back burner for over a week now.

Eliot's mind was on only one thing and everyone was aware of it. Somehow the discussion kept segueing back to that.

‘Eliot,’ Sophie suggested in her smooth, cultured voice, ’she’ll be fine.’

‘Sophie, you don’t understand. You don’t know how it was, what she went through. She needs me.’

Nate voiced a concern he’d been considering for some time now. ‘Eliot, you’re not, uh, falling in love with this girl, are you? That wouldn’t work too well, you know; she’s a minor.’

Eliot flung back his hair and let out a couple of breaths, not really sure what to say. 'Nate...she’s alone, she’s scared, she doesn’t have anybody. She trusts me.' He scowled. _'I’m supposed to betray that?'_

'No…but look…you have a thing for kids. This girl’s a kid. She’s gonna need way more than you can give her – you know that.'

_'No, I don’t know that, Nate!'_

Nate continued his assessment. ‘OK…suppose now, you’re not in love with her. OK. Let’s see, what else is there…I can’t see you adopting her; for one thing, no court in the state’s gonna give her to you in the first place. Eliot, she has to go back into the system! It's only for a couple of years...'

' _She’ll die in the system_!' Eliot yelled, mimicking quotes with his fingers.

Parker piped up. 'No, she won’t. _I_ didn’t.'

' _Yeah, well, she’s not you, Parker!_ '

Unmoved by Eliot's temper, she said in her quirky manner, 'She is, too. She looks like me. Heck, she looks enough like me to be my sister.'

Nate looked at her. A strange expression crossed his face.

'What?' said Parker.

‘She does look like you, doesn’t she…’ Nate said, more to himself than anyone else.

There was a long silence. Eliot sat fuming. Sophie kept her eyes on Nate's face; she could see something cooking behind those eyes. Hardison continued to peck at his keyboard, oblivious to the drama. Parker kept looking from face to face, trying to figure out what was going on.

'Hardison,' said Nate, at last.

'Yeah,' he replied, still pecking.

'Have you, uh, found anything on Laura from what Eliot gave you? Please say no.'

Hardison, incredulous, looked up from his keyboard. 'What…now you want me to find nothing? You was so _in my face_ to find something. Now you want me to find nothing. Why…I ask you, why…do I work here...'

'Hardison…it’s important…a name; former foster homes; relatives - ?'

'Nothin’ Nate, and I do mean zippity-do-dah, nothin’. I mean, there wasn't that much to go on. I been through every database on this planet, Vulcan and Kronos. She’s a throwaway kid. Nobody seems to care enough to post a picture or a description...sad.’

‘Terrible,' Sophie agreed. ‘Nowhere to turn except to what she’s most frightened of. What an awful situation.’

'No, that’s good, that’s very good,' Nate replied. He looked pleased with himself as he poured a drink.

'Why is that?' asked Hardison.

'Nate, will you please start making sense?' Sophie asked.

'This is good, people. I’ll tell you why. Because if our genius Hacker can’t find anyone, that means nobody else can…and that gives me an idea.'

Eliot got up, came around the table and pulled Nate over for a whispered conference.

'Nate, I don't know what you got up your sleeve, but we gotta be careful where we dig,’ he said, _sotto voce_. ‘Now, I wiped that crime scene but it's gotta stay undetected for a while. I can't risk being brought up on murder charges.'

'We wouldn’t let that happen,' Nate said.

Nervous frustration got the better of Eliot. He raised his voice. 'You think you’re _above the system_ , don’t you Nate?!'

The other members of the team were staring at them. Nate spoke in his usual unperturbed manner. 'Well, we do tend to operate in that fashion...'

He turned away from Eliot and stood lost in thought for a moment. He addressed the rest of the team. ‘Sophie, our, uh, our client...was he in any sort of a hurry?'

'Oh, no,' she affirmed. 'Didn’t seem to be – his aunt’s will, her lawyers, probate court…he knows there’s a lot of preparation. Something like that can take...months,' she shrugged.

'Good, good, we'll shelve that one for now. Gives us time.'

'Time for _what_ , Nate?' Sophie asked impatiently.

'Team...we have another client with needs more pressing.'

'Will you please stop speaking in riddles?!'

’We're gonna steal a waif.'

~~~~~

Grouped around the conference table, the team began planning this unexpected job; the first of its kind. There would be no payout, but no one seemed to mind; not even Parker.

‘Eliot, you sit this one out. Take care of Laura. We'll handle the rest,’ Nate directed. 'And don't be worrying about your special concerns. We'll be careful.'

Eliot, beer in hand, nodded. He was satisfied. This kind of job didn’t require a hitter anyway. He ambled over to the window to gaze out onto the city. Half his mind was on the team's doings behind him; the other half on a vulnerable young girl he had somehow let deep into his heart...deeper than anyone he had ever allowed in...lying in the hospital, recuperating. Doc Bridges had assured him she'd make a full recovery. He was grateful, but not about to thank any higher power. He didn't buy into that. Whatever higher power existed could have damned well prevented what happened to her in the first place.

Behind him, the team was in high gear. ‘Now,’ Nate began, ‘we need three things. We need a relative. That's you, Parker. Sophie, you’re going to be the social worker. Now we need a lawyer. Sophie can’t act both roles because they're going to have to be in the same place at the same time, so...I suggest we bring Tara Cole back temporarily. She made a great lawyer; good enough to fool all of us. Think she’d join in?'

‘She’s going to want a cut, Nate...a cut of what? This is a pro bono job!’ Sophie reminded him.

‘You don’t think she’d take a case like this?'

‘Tara works for money,’ Sophie said unequivocally. ‘You know that.’

‘I think you’re underestimating her…but you might be right. So...I’ll underwrite her cut,’ Nate replied, easily.

' _No_ ,' Eliot spoke up emphatically, still standing at the window. ' _I will_. That's my part of this job.'

The team regarded Eliot with surprise; unable to imagine their hitter with that much money. He never seemed to need anything but he never talked about nor displayed wealth, either. He never dressed as if he had money. His tastes were simple. They simply forgot that Eliot was a comfortably fixed as the rest of them.

'That's your privilege,' Nate said.

‘In any case…I think she’ll be flattered that we’re asking her,’ said Sophie. 'God, I hope she's not in Istanbul...I'll call her tonight.'

'Good. Now…Hardison. I need documents and background; match Parker's character to Laura.'

'Got it. I can make anything you need so long as you steer clear of DNA tests. Remember what I told you about those. I mean, I'm good but I can't rewrite genetic code...yet...' Hardison grinned.

'What we’re doing is making Parker Laura’s long-lost cousin based on their resemblance to each other. I'm thinking that alone will probably negate the need for DNA testing. It will be up to Tara to skirt that issue in the courts.'

'Nate, this is brilliant,' Sophie praised.

'Can't think of a better way to conjure up relatives for this girl and remove her from foster care. Makes sense,' said Nate.

'I always wanted a sister!' exclaimed Parker.

' _Cousin_ , Parker. _Cousin_. Your ‘fathers’ were ‘brothers.’ And a lot of cousins look alike. It'll play.'

'It's close. Identical cousins!' Parker said gleefully. 'We can share clothes and keep our room half messy and half neat and cover for each other when we come in late from a date...like Patty and Cathy!'

'Step through the portal to the real world, Parker!' growled Eliot from across the room, throwing Parker into a sulk.

'Hey...Eliot made a pop culture reference,' Hardison marveled.

Eliot snarled at him and turned back to the window.

Sophie had a thought. ‘Nate,’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

‘We get Laura of out foster care. She’s a minor, right?’

‘She’s sixteen, yes.’

‘So…what comes after that?’

‘You know, I hadn’t planned that far ahead.’

‘That doesn’t sound like you, Nate. But in any case…I might have a solution to that little problem.’

Now it was Nate’s turn to wonder.


	8. Chapter Eight

The team began referring to the job as the _Patty and Cathy Job_ which pleased Parker no end. ‘I thought of it,’ she said to anyone who would listen. To their knowledge, except for the Lost Heir Job, no grift like it had ever been done. They were on new ground.

Tara was in the States after all, finishing up a deal with a corrupt Tennessee lawyer to bilk him out of a bundle in stock investments. She emailed the team of her arrival on the next available flight. She was looking forward to seeing everyone again and especially working with the best, as she often called them.

Hardison produced birth certificates, social security cards, voter's registrations and even baptismal records for both Parker's character and Laura's and linked them to a man he conjured out of thin air. The man, ostensibly the father of Parker and the uncle of Laura, was an engineer working on a pipeline in Alaska and would be represented by his attorney, Tara Carlisle, in court. This man, was, of course, thrilled that his long-lost niece had been found alive, having survived the terrible car accident which had taken the lives of his brother and his family.

As Laura continued to recuperate, the job went forward without a hitch. Tara’s performance was brilliant. At the hearing, she convinced the judge, after presenting the proper documentation, that the unseen client wanted his niece to come live with him and his wife after her recuperation. She would be temporarily released into the adult daughter’s (Parker’s) custody. The case was processed in record time. The entire team celebrated the night of its completion with dinner and champagne.

~~~~~

Back at Leverage Headquarters, Tara bid them all farewell amid handshakes and hugs. ‘Great working with you all again. And you,’ she said, addressing Parker, ‘you’re still the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.’

Eliot handed Tara a chunky legal envelope. ‘Here’s your cut,’ he said, stiffly. Eliot had always had difficulty working with Tara and had only begrudgingly acknowledged her as a team member when she told him how much she hated Jim Sterling. Still, he had to admit to himself that she had done a stellar job and he was grateful for her help with Laura.

Tara regarded him for a moment. ‘I happen to know this job carried no profit, Eliot. It's the nicest thing I ever saw anyone do. But…wherever this came from, thanks. I’ll put it to good use.’

She teasingly faked a move to walk away and immediately turned back. ‘Give this to her, will you? For her new start. I think whoever put up the money would approve. Don’t you?’ She tapped him on the shoulder with the envelope and dropped it into his hands. Eliot’s face lit up with a smile.

‘Aw, Eliot, I think you made a friend,’ said Hardison, smugly.

‘The best,’ Sophie declared, as Tara strutted out the door. Perhaps they’d have an opportunity to work with her again in the future. Everyone hoped so.

~~~~~

Laura was released from the hospital after two weeks and moved in with Parker as planned. Eliot was initially thrilled that he could see Laura any time he liked; however, Parker played her role for all it was worth and gleefully insisted on chaperoning the visits. Eliot got fed up with it one particular day. He helped Laura to her feet, telling Parker in no uncertain terms that he was taking her to the park, and if Parker didn’t like it she could _kiss his ass_.

Except they didn't go to the park. They spent the day just riding around Portland and talking. Eliot wanted to be sure Laura understood the direction her life was about to take and be able to accept it. They stopped for lunch at an outdoor hamburger joint.

‘I wanted to talk to you alone, to explain a few things,’ he began.

‘Good, ‘cause I’m not sure I understand any of it. All I know is, I don’t have to go back to my foster home. That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘You bet. That part of your life is over. Done. _Finished_ ,’ he said, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

‘So…what happens next?’

‘The people I work with, Laura…they helped get you to where you are. That’s what they do. We all try to help people. We try to find the best solutions for all our clients.’

She looked crestfallen. ‘Is that all I am to you – a client?’

‘You know better than that. Can I finish, please?’

She nodded petulantly.

‘You met Sophie, the pretty brunette with, you know, the accent? Well, she has an aunt who lives in London. Her name is…uh…Aunt…Emily,’ he said, rather redundantly. ‘I’ve never met her, but Sophie says she’s nice. She’s agreed to take you in until you finish school.’

Laura’s eyes widened.

‘You _will_ finish school. You got that?’

Laura nodded incredulously. ‘You mean I get to live in England?’

‘We thought it best; let you see more of the world; experience life in a different place, in a better place. I know you’ll be safe there.’

‘But it’s so far. How will I – will I ever see you again?’

Eliot sighed. ‘Look, I gotta be honest with you. I’m not gonna say no. But I can’t say yes. My work takes me down a different road.’ He smiled encouragingly at her. ‘There’s always email. Besides, I want to know what you're gonna major in when you get to college. They have some of the best schools over there. I’ve already sent your tuition to Sophie’s aunt. So you see, you’re kind of stuck.’

Laura smiled. ‘You know, I think I’m getting excited.’

‘A new future; a bright future. You deserve it, little girl.’ He took a big bite of his hamburger and motioned her to do the same. ‘C’mon…eat up. We have to get back before the warden calls the cops on us.’

Laura giggled and bit into her hamburger.


	9. Chapter Nine

Nate, Sophie, Hardison and Parker accompanied Laura to the airport. Now that she was actually leaving, she was shaking with fear. Sophie and Parker did their best to cheer her. Nate handed her a packet with her plane ticket, passport and other documentation, courtesy of Hardison.  


‘Now… _ **Laura Parker**_ ,’ said Nate, using her new, legal name. ‘You have a new identity. A new life awaits you.’ He gestured grandly, as if to the whole world.  


‘You’re going to love London, darling. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m there quite often and I’ll be visiting my Aunt Emily. I won’t fail to stop in to see you,’ Sophie assured her.  


‘I wanted to stay with Eliot,’ Laura sobbed.  


‘I know…but his destiny lies elsewhere,’ Nate replied.  


‘That’s what he told me.’  


‘So does yours,’ said Sophie. ‘We all must follow our own paths. Don't be afraid.’  


‘Would you…would you tell Eliot something for me?’ she sobbed. ‘I thought…I thought he’d be here to tell me goodbye. Will you tell him something? Please?’  


‘Of course we will, darling. What is it?’ Sophie asked.  


‘Tell him…tell him…what my real name is. I never…I never told him, or anybody. Tell him my real name _is Laura_ , will you? I don’t know how he guessed it.’  


‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ said Nate.  


‘That boy’s psychic or something,’ said Hardison.  


‘Don’t forget,’ said Parker. ‘You have friends here. Someday you can come visit and stay with me if you like.’  


Laura nodded gratefully.  


The announcement came over the speaker. It was time to board. Laura clung to Parker, not wanting to let her go. Parker gently disentangled herself and everyone else took a turn for a hug.  


After Hardison hugged Laura, he produced a Kindle loaded with a collection of sci-fi books for the long flight.  


'Get you started off right,' he said.  


'Thank you, Mr. Hardison.'  


'You're welcome, Sweet Girl.'  


'Well...it's time,' Sophie said, dabbing at her eyes.  


'Good luck,’ said Nate, hugging her one more time. ' _Kick ass_.'  


Laura sniffed back the last tear, wiped her eyes, stood up straight, and started down the jetbridge with her carryon. She didn’t look back.  


~~~~~  


She was grateful to have a window seat in the first section of coach. She stashed the carryon beneath her seat and clicked her seatbelt. A large rolling suitcase had been checked and loaded onto the plane. In it were dresses from Sophie, toiletries and other necessities from Tara, a warm coat courtesy of Nate, and some hand-me-down jeans from Parker. Eliot had also contributed a parting gift which he'd tucked it into the luggage: a 24-carat gold filigree locket containing a miniature photo of him.  


The plane was parked at an angle; the windows to the waiting room were easily visible. The line of people behind the glass moved slowly forward as they boarded the plane. The last four people remained at the window; they would not be boarding. They stood waving farewell to Laura: Nate, Sophie, Hardison, and Parker. One by one, they slowly drifted away. 

Eliot had slipped in behind everyone, unnoticed. He now approached the big glass window. She could see him clearly. He raised his right hand...pressed his lips to his palm...and placed his hand over his heart.  


The jetbridge retracted and the plane began backing away from the terminal. Laura, blue eyes awash in tears, waved back at him. In her mind, she could hear him singing:  


_Gonna close my eyes, girl and watch you go…_

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Allusions to grifting, professional dealings, medical procedures, laws governing child welfare, etc. may not be completely accurate; if not, I beg your indulgence. It’s just how the story flowed. I prefer writing emotion over cold hard facts, anyway. Thank you.
> 
> I give full credit to David Gray for his excellent song, part of which seemed to suit the story and certainly Eliot:  
> http://www.lyrics.net/lyric/8340278


End file.
